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Dark Poetry #4
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Seeker72
Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 387
Oregon USA

0 posted 2007-11-08 01:21 AM


I'm feeling extra dark tonight.

.
PI
.
Winds whipping past the windows of my home

So unprotected by the harshness of humanity

The news crying somewhere in the background

Like a child told it has no more treats left to indulge themselves

Telling me of spoiled deaths within the realms of peoples lives I shall never meet

Still I feel sorry for them

Under my breath

Under the shimmer of darkness

Under a blanket of relief that it was not me

Crawling doubt

It scatters along the walls in the hallway

Tracing steps along the wall up to the ceiling

Hiding from sight in fear

Fear

Something everything lives by

Those that don’t know no better are fools

It keeps you grounded

Like the noises in the dark when you switch out the lights

Wondering no matter your age if tonight

Shall be the night those hands reach from under your bed

To take your soul

You feared them as a child

At times you fear it as an adult

Only the brave tell you so

Only the foolish of heart say it isn’t so

Only the unfortunate

Are dragged underneath

Better them than you

Until the moment comes

When the lights are out and your 50-year-old heart beats a little too fast

So disgusted with yourself

At the childish foolishness of ignorance

The fountain of youth

One never sips from

So disgusted

The loss we all endure

To become that so much more

To become so accomplished in a job that once you are dead

All shall forget

To become the perfect father

Or mother

To fade into time

Once your children are dead along side you

So disgusting we are to live such impotent lives

So sad we let ourselves do it

A bottle is a crutch

A cigarette our lifeline

Intelligence governed by numbers

Numbers attached to paper

To create a monetary world

So funny

An old man out in the country

He could tell you about the constellations

Give you their history

Yet the only time Pi is mentioned

Is when his wife bakes one

Usually on a Sunday

To have after church

Maybe with milk

Until the night he feels the hands

Under his bed

Then he knows

Like so many others

That life is not what we all think it to be

Life is not so supermarket fresh

When death comes

It is not freshly sealed like coffee from Brazil

When death comes it doesn’t have a red sale tag

Telling you how fortunate you are for stumbling upon such a pointless item

Something you never truly needed

Yet fought over because it was cheap

Pride of place

At the back of the closet

Something for your children to ponder

When you cross over

Wondering just why you had this thing

This God-awful thing

They put it down to senility

They put it down to bad taste

As they put you down into the ground

Walking away to bicker over who gets what

Except for that sale item you fought so hard to buy

Coming home wondering why yourself

Wishing you could pass it off that next Christmas

Knowing you never could

Wishing to you had the will power to just throw it over the bridges rail

You stood there

For almost an hour you stood there

So many people had climbed the very same rail

And plummeted to the icy waters below

They gave their lives for the sake of nothing

Yet still you held onto it

Held onto your greed

Your foolishness

Your stupidity

At home you cried about it

About the lives lost

Yet mostly about how you couldn’t let go

Such a deal

Such a life

Disgusted with ourselves do we wander

Through the darkened halls

Listening to the scratching of fear as it scurries away into the cracks

Disgusted with ourselves do we inhale the sweet smell of fresh baked pie

As the news tells us of the dead

While we head to church

The children screaming and running around the house and out into the yard

So perfect does it seem

The steam still rising from the pie

As the phone rings

Never to be answered

The constellations slowly make their way across the darkness

To be watched by some one else’s eyes

Like the moon

A keeper of lives

Yet unknowing of their role

Uncaring of their role

Do we constantly carry forth our gene

In the never ending fight for eternal youth

I see my father in my eyes

My mother in my voice

I see them in my son

I wish him better times

I wish myself those times also

Whispers in the hallway frighten me

As I climb into bed do I jump to avoid those hands

So childish I think once tucked up snuggly

So real do we think it is

As we try to reach the bed unharmed

So cold does the ground get

When winter comes to call

Freezing the sod like rock

Do you ever think of lying there?

Wrapped like a bed

Surround by wood

Surrounded by frozen soil

As the world above carries on

Unknowing

Uncaring

While you rot

So very slowly

Because for some strange reason we as the intelligent breed

Decided to inject everything we could think of to slow the process down

Why?

I never understood

It’s like buying an iron that made coffee just because it was on sale

No one wants it

Like your dead body

No one wants that either

So why prolong the decay?

I find it somewhat ironic that we dedicate so much land to the dead

As we live in rabbit hutches

It seems to me

We live our lives backwards

We live our lives in self-disgust

I may be wrong

Wouldn’t be the first time

These thoughts only come to me as I watch the wind

It rips off dying leaves

Scattering them to the four winds

Screaming they fly past my view

Clawing at my window for salvation

While my wife bakes us a delicious Pi


[This message has been edited by Seeker72 (11-08-2007 09:49 AM).]

© Copyright 2007 Christopher Duncan - All Rights Reserved
Mystress May
Member
since 2007-10-25
Posts 296
Taunton, MA
1 posted 2007-11-08 07:48 AM


I love following the Pi throughout... I'd almost recommend renaming it to Pi. It seems an apt theme to follow that which you describe.

Fabulous!

Seeker72
Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 387
Oregon USA
2 posted 2007-11-08 09:49 AM


I couldn't agree more MM.

Thanks for your input.

Mystress May
Member
since 2007-10-25
Posts 296
Taunton, MA
3 posted 2007-11-08 11:57 AM


YAY!!! I logged on and immediately saw the change.... it fits well, doll.

Our scars are the foundation for what we have become

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